Sunday, 29 June 2008

This post is written in the spirit of random letters. And I ask you to take a guess as to the origins of the title of this post.

Dear Sacha,

I love you, but for the love of Jesus would you do Maman a favour and not start screaming whenever your brother is crying? Or when I have to turn my attention every so slightly toward the wee babe in order to, oh, I don't know, change his poonami of a diaper? Also, if you could stop running out into the road every time we park in the driveway and I let you out of the car while I am taking your brother out of the car? And stop swiping your brother's soother out of his mouth when he is trying to relax! And could you PUH-LEEZE learn some words and start talking soon? The ubiquitous "Eh! Eh! Eh!" while pointing to a bajillion things and getting pissed at me when I cannot figure out what you are getting at is going to drive driving me to drink.

Your loving, cuddling, ever subserviant,

Maman

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Dear Kees,

I love that you sleep so well at night. One waking per night? Genius. Sleeping seven and a half hours straight last night? I could dance naked on my front lawn from giddiness. In keeping with the wonderful sleep theme, I would really appreciate if you could go back to being the nap king. It was a good ride, napping for 2+ hours in the morning and afternoon. The past week without these naps is going to drive driving me to drink.

Oh, and keep up the good eating and fattening up. I likes me a chubby baby.

Love, cuddles and kisses,

The Moomy

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Dear Pavement Ants,

I hate you, you low life scrum sucking pieces of shit. There is no food for you to eat in the basement, unless you like eating shitty diaper wipes. If you continue to crawl out of the bathroom baseboards, I will be forced to continue employing Operation Dyson Aspiration-Extermination. And no, you cannot form a new colony in the canister of my beloved vacuum. If only I could get the Orkinaters on your asses, I would. But fortunately for you, I value the life of my baby more than your execution. God help you when the new owners move in in three weeks. They don't have kids. They will not be so kind.

A sincerely pissed yet restrained,

Ant-hater

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Dear Weather,

You suck. You send nice weather only to turn to grim torrential monsoon rains at a moment's notice. This is not acceptable, particularly when I am out walking with the mini humans in the half ton double stroller. The least you could do is provide more than a 2 minute warning. Or throw down some umbrellas before you start washing away my sins.

A most penitent,

Mrs. Mustard

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Dear Hips,

It's been over 6 weeks. Although I appreciate the effort in making me appear "curvy", I would appreciate if you follow Waist's lead and reduce your size ASAP. I would like to be able to wear some of my summer clothes on the odd day that it is actually summer outside rather than full length sweaty sweats. All I am asking for is 3 inches. That's not too much to ask. Right? RIGHT?

Signed,

The Enabler

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Dear blogosphere,

I am sorry I've been playing hookie. But I had 30 absences in grade 12 calculus (a local bar saw a lot of me that term) while still getting a 97% term average and it sort of grew on me. I'll try and be more studious and diligent. Please don't flunk me!

Friday, 6 June 2008

I realize that I have not posted in 3 weeks. Kees is now 3 weeks old. Coincidence? I think not.

Obviously having a new baby takes up a lot of my time, and add the fact that Sacha is 21 months old and just a tad jealous. Ok, he likes to smack his little bro upside the head when he is nursing. Or grab his face and try to pull it off. Or pull him off the boob. All of these resulting in my unlatching Kees, carrying him and his big brother by one hand to his room where he serves a time out for being so cruel to his baby bro. Normal toddler fun, right?

Then there's the issue of feeding. Kees is a mere 3 weeks old and has already gained 3 lbs. So guess what I am doing most of the time...